Why Doesn't He Love Me?
by mass.convulsion
Summary: Sam is sixteen years old and feelin' the angst! After another fight with John, he loses control of his emotions.


Disclaimer: I don't own Sam, Dean, Caleb, Jim, Daniel OR John … because if I did, John would have died already, Dean would have a bigger emotional range than a spoon, and Sam would stand up to Dean more.

A/N: I'm currently in love with the whole "Sammy the angsty teen" thing … please review, I'd love feedback.

Sam glared at his homework, barely able to concentrate. His father was in the kitchen, talking on the phone to Caleb. They were obviously talking about another hunt.

"We don't need anyone else! You and I can do this, and besides, Jim and Daniel are both on jobs at the moment and – what?! Dean? No! We can't just – I know, but he's my son, Caleb!"

John sighed.

"Look, give me tonight to work it out, ok?"

Sam looked up as John walked into the living room, where Sam was sitting on the floor, his homework papers and essays scattered over the coffee table. John looked at Sam. He was about to speak when Dean came down the stairs. He stopped when he saw Sam angry confusion and his father's hesitant look.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Dean, how would you feel about going on a hunt with me and Caleb?" John said.

Dean's eyes widened. "Are you serious? Of course I will!"

He looked like all his dreams had come true.

Sam looked at Dean, questions filling his eyes. He looked back at John.

"Sam, I know what you're thinking. But you're too young. Maybe one day when you know a little more." John said.

Sam laughed bitterly.

"Dad, you don't have a clue what I'm thinking. I hope I never have to go on a hunt. And I was hoping Dean wouldn't either!" he said, standing to his feet and throwing his pen onto his homework.

Johns anger flared. "These things took your mother! Dean is a good son to want to avenge that! It's about time you got your priorities right!"

"No, dad. Mine are fine! I want to go to college, I want to go into law, I want to have a house of my own! And when I eventually settle down, I'm going to have kids and I'm going to raise them _right_!" Sam yelled. "You're priorities are wrong, considering you put some stupid creature before the safety of your kids!"

When John finally spoke, it was a deadly whisper. "Nothing, I mean nothing comes before the safety of your boys. But this has to be done. And you can't go to school! There's too much to do!"

Sam walked around the table and stood in front of his father.

"Well I don't want to do it. You think you're protecting us? You haven't made me feel safe since I was five!" Sam yelled. "Mum is gone! I want to move on!"

Disappointment came from John in waves. He lifted his fist in a threatening manner, but hesitated as Dean rushed forwards. Sam smiled.

"Go on. Do it." He said. John put his hand down and rubbed his eyes.

"That's enough." Dean said.

Sam looked at Dean, then turned around and walked up the stairs to his bedroom.

Dean looked at his father.

"What was that?" he said. "Were you going to hit Sam?"

John opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"He's sixteen years old, dad!"

"You were never like that when you were his age!" John said, throwing his hands in the air.

Dean smiled sadly. "I was, dad. I knew what I wanted to do. The only difference is, you approved of me. Sam wants that, why can't you give it to him?"

John didn't say a word.

"Look, I'll talk to you about this hunt later." Dean said, before following Sam up to their shared bedroom.

Dean slowly opened the door. Their room was plain, their beds neatly made and no permanate personal items were visible. Sam sat on the floor behind his bed. His back to Dean. Dean watched him for a moment. Suddenly, as though he couldn't hold it back any more, Sam sobbed. He leant his head against his bedside table and cried.

Dean had never heard anything more miserable in his life. Sam hadn't cried in front of Dean since they were little. Unknowing what to do, Dean paused.

"What do you want, Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean stared. Sam had an uncanny ability to just know when someone was there.

Dean walked around the bed and crouched in front of Sam. He didn't say a word.

"Why does he hate me, Dean? Why can't he love me like he loves you?" Sam whispered. He sobbed again, his eyes closed and tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Aw, Sam, dad loves you. He wants you safe." Dean said, moving a little closer to his brother.

"Well he does a shitty job, considering the only person who scares me his him."

Dean was shocked – he didn't know what to say.

"Dean – I don't want you to hunt." He said, looking up.

"I'm sorry Sam … I want to."

Sam looked at him with disappointment as Dean stood up and walked to the door.

"He does care, Sam. We both do." He said, and he left. As he walked down the stairs, he could hear Sam sobbing again.


End file.
